All I can speak for is our family, and this is what I have to say.

I don’t know when or if help is coming, or in what form, and for how long, and that’s what pulls my stomach in knots when I lay down in bed, unable to close my eyes, staring at the ceiling fan whirring above, wondering how much electricity it’s going to chew and whether we really need it on in the first place.

Last month we went from a thriving, debt-free business with a full calendar to a family with no income, self-paying an incredible amount for health insurance, still forking over the same Hawaii-style rent for the upper level of a modest 2 1/2 bedroom home, watching any savings we’d accumulated disappear as if the work we put in never happened. When I think more than a day at a time, I can’t catch my breath, and if I don’t think far enough into the future, my head hurts. It’s ok, our health insurer says, we don’t have to pay this month but, uh, you’d better pay double next month.

I’ve cancelled or rescheduled over 50 bookings, applied for loans and grants through SBA, filed for unemployment, and have heard back from no one. What do we do and where do we go from here?

I know the system is overwhelmed, others have it worse, we have our health. But with all that’s happened in just a few weeks, I’m anxious for where we’ll find ourselves in a few months. I’m sure we’re not alone in feeling this.

I take it day by day. Our daughter is teething and waking through the night, so sleep is fitful. Our son wants to know when he can see friends. My neck is a twist of knots and after a long day looking after our kids and thinking of ways to keep ourselves afloat, Adam and I crash on the couch exhausted, scratch each other’s heads, stare blankly at the TV screen or talk passionately about the direction of whatever this is.

I’m scared, uncertain, and at times during the day, oddly motivated. It’s survival mode over here.